


We Arrange Stars

by sudds0



Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-18 03:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12380250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sudds0/pseuds/sudds0
Summary: Tons of steel were built to crash, bodies made for breaking. Holes grow larger, Astra's lost, Possum Springs is aching.





	1. Watch It Crash

Diesel-powered freight roared as mechanics hammered into forward momentum. North of Possum Springs, wheels turned. The unrelenting power of a train met the minor resistance of someone standing on the tracks. Within the locomotive, engineers heard nothing and felt very little. Just meters away from the tracks Lori’s ears perked at the sound of impact, an unfamiliar grinding, then the sudden presence of an eviscerated arm she hadn’t made of newspaper, glue, and paint at her feet. 

Further away, inside town proper, Bea arrived home after a late-night inventory to find the indent in the Santello sofa free of its permanent occupant. Though she jerked her gaze away from the space that seemed to have stolen her father’s soul its’ haunting emptiness wouldn’t leave her mind, the pit extending into her gut then finally prying wide the hole barely-healed inside her heart. Though she wouldn’t get the call for hours, Beatrice lay in bed with the absolute knowledge that she had been orphaned. 

______

Fog drenched the cemetery in an appropriate grey, a projection of Beatrice’s apathy given tangibility as she stared toward the emptied space beside her mother’s headstone. She didn’t feel like crying, like mourning, like anything. The everlasting sense of doom that hung overhead had finally consumed her and Bea had become Nothing. Some shell of the Santellos’ daughter lingered, unblinking, blank-faced. A third family corpse standing upright and attentive before the graves of the inanimate.

In the crowd of half the town that had come to complete the grieving process for a man they’d considered dead alongside his wife, Mae patted at her mom’s shoulder and offered a quick moment of eye contact before disappearing among the bodies. Prone to inconsideration at the best of times, Mae had no qualms shoving Possum Springs aside to make her way toward the only person that mattered in the mass. 

“Bea !!” The called-for remained stoic, eyes unfaltering from the ground. Mae’s brow furrowed. Head motionless and a night of texts left unanswered, trying to communicate with BeaBea right now felt an awful lot like trying to punch a hole in asphalt. Though Mae couldn’t exactly throw blame around it made trying to be a source of comfort awfully hard. 

“BEA” she practically hissed, Mae’s hand grasping the unadorned shoulder of her de-dadded friend and jerking her to face. Close-lipped, eyes half-lidded, Bea reciprocated eye contact. Contracted pupils sent a visceral wave of nausea up Mae’s throat. She gulped. Mae might be no good at body language but Beatrice’s decapitated-fish-head stare wrenched her biled-up guts into a fist as she thought on accounts of herself as a glassy eyed doll at her grandfather’s funeral. Words became real hard but the solemn faced silver lining of living in Possum Springs demanded something from her. Anything. 

“So Like. Let me. You know. If there’s anything I can do...” Mae’s fingers slipped from Bea’s shoulder and grasped her other hand, pulling on her own fingers and staring at her own feet before resolve filled her heart. Eyes closing she reached out to hug BeaBea. Grasping at nothing, momentum brought her forward onto her knees, new slacks coating in soft earth. Looking up she saw the retreating back of Beatrice Santello, a purposeful stride carrying her away from the congregated mourners.

Mae’s fingers dug into the ground around her and she shot a scathingly contorted glare toward the closed casket being prepared for descent. “No, you are not gonna rot her with you,” she spat, briefly thankful for the distance between herself and Bea for the time it took to stand. 

Without a look back Mae bolted toward the cemetery entrance, thanks dissolving to fury with herself for the waste of breath. Bea must’ve picked up pace because Mae wasn’t catching up. A slew of curses toward her own body for not Hauling Enough Ass filled her brain as she exited the Cemetery to the sound of a truck door slamming and ignition roaring an engine to life. 

_EFF !! THAT !!!_ Three bounds and a leap left her shortly shoved atop Bea’s car, though Mae’s uplifted hope tumbled down alongside her body off the side. Back to her hands and knees after a deft twist to fall on something that could take it, Mae felt fur and skin give way to blood and bone as she smashed and smashed and smashed her fist into the street.

Beneath a speeding sedan screeching through Possum Springs with a cry its driver couldn’t muster, wheels turned.


	2. We Are All Compost In Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost in thought, a hero sought, what is Living and who is Dead ?

_“Enough of your shit, I’m searching for Adina Astra”._

_Eyes turned defiantly toward the great riddlesome beast, the Traveler’d already grown tired of this liminal space of those who thought themselves dead in rest and the oversized cat presiding. Old and slow as it leisurely perused reality’s options, that-which-had-always-been seemed intent on nurturing hopelessness in its visitors. Despite its preoccupation with the end of everything it couldn’t seem to regard the Traveler’s time as worthwhile. ‘Not everything has eons to waste!’ she wished to shout, only stopped by the knowledge that it would create a longer delay and be anticipated._

**“Y o u A r e I m p a t i e n t A n d Y o u A r e M i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g,”** _it droned and the Traveler’s grit was all that kept her mind from wandering to whether the beast might hurt if struck by her axe._ **“A n d T h e O n e W h o W a s A d i n a A s t r a I s D e a d A n d Y o u A r e D y i n g A n d A d i n a A s t r a I s B e i n g F o r g o t t e n A n d Y o u A r e N e v e r R e m e m b e r e d.”**

********

****

_As the Traveler’s focus slipped and she wondered how best to tell an omniscient creature to fuck off, it took the unspoken cue, leaving her alone to the expanse of space. After a screech of frustration that hardly carried to her own ears the Traveler fell to her back, staring up past the falseness of horizon._

_“I’ll find you.”_

There was nothing particularly horrific about the holiday playlist at the Ham Panther. In fact its arrangement wasn’t so far off from mixtapes of Stan’s adolescence. As the gentle refrain of ‘Stay Up With Me’ drifted to a close, he remembered clearly his arms wrapped round Candy’s waist as they continued to waltz past the end of the famous Longest Night composition. Season’s romance and a powerful, mutual love had guided their steps in harmonic pairings. Instead of his feet moving 1, 2, 3 as he and his wives’ hearts beat as one, a cacophony of wheeled carts pushed by desperate shoppers offered a gross end to the track. The songs themselves weren’t horrifying but in present circumstances they made him a bit nauseous.

Stan’s mind was split, lurking somewhere at the midpoint between this source of income and the cemetery at which he knew Candy and Mae to be helping Bea in burying an old friend. _‘Sorry Stan, I’ve already got four out the fourteenth. Can’t go another short’_. The Ham Panther could run five short even with a holiday rush, but the funeral wasn’t in the family and Stan’s pushes toward unionizing weren’t being met with a whole lot’ve sympathy from his managers. These days offtime better involve a contagious infection or he wasn’t getting it. 

“Sir ? Sir, can I get some help ? Sir ? Sir ?” 

The request initially seemed some horrid hallucinatory amalgamation of every customer that had come to ask his assistance in the rote mechanic of cutting a hunk of fucking meat. Instead, it turned out there was a real person behind him. Without even a sigh, he put on his friendliest expression and turned around. He didn’t feel particularly amicable but voice pitched up an octave higher than anyone would recognize as being Stan Borowski’s. 

“What can I get for you, ma’am ?”

Behind all the walls he’d carefully constructed between he and the customer’s face, Stan bore his teeth and roared.

“Oh, could I get two pounds of that lemonpepper chicken sliced thin ?” 

The inquisition was a facade. This was not a request, but a demand. Though she had come here to procure the means by which to feed her own family, she demanded he provide those means lest his own family starve. Lest they lose the house which they would lose anyway. Lest his wife should have to work two jobs again and never read another word of those terrifying books she liked to regale him with as he drifted to blissful rest. _Give me your body_ , she demanded, sneering. _Thinly sliced, in tiny shifts, every day, with meager pay, for the rest of your life_. And it still wasn’t enough for the bank.

“Coming right up.” 

Behind those walls, Stan’s voice was growing hoarse.

\---

Bea’s dad was dead, her mom was dead. In the sedan passing one-twenty and accelerating, tires rotating faster than they were made to beneath a ton of metal provided momentum, Bea was dead. Hard to drive when you’re dead. Hard to live when you’re dead. Bea never decided to die but the crash was inevitable.

\---

“So I basically completely screwed up and she’s gone and like drove away and shit and left me on the road and I-I-I-” Sobs jerked Mae’s words from her, tears wetting her furry cheeks as her body shook. 

For the hundredth time since Mae’d come into their complex, Selma looked toward Mr. Chazokov. His focus hadn’t drifted from tending to Mae’s bloodied hand yet though and she had to hold the huff of irritation itching at the back of her throat. Anyone could wrap a hand. Reaching tentatively over, she gave her friend's shoulder a squeeze and before she knew it Mae’s face was shoved into the crook of her neck. This time Mr. Chazokov met her stare, then smiled at her. Her throat was getting itchier. 

Offering to put anyone who harmed the cat down ? Easy. Offering a few easy rhymes to brighten up her day ? Cinch. Emotional labor on par with taking her soul to test and performing her poetry in front of people ? Well, if she’d had a few hours of practice in the mirror maybe she’d be doing okay but this was all pretty sudden. Mr. Chazokov winked and Selma resisted the urge to toss Mae off her person and deck the old man.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault, right ? It’s the last of her family to bite it, not exactly something you could have stopped. You’re doing fine.”

“D-d-don’t wanna b-BEAAAA !!!” Whatever response Mae had been halfway through devolved into harder cries as soon as soon as the syllable of her friend's name was off her lips and she was left speechlessly sobbing again. This time Selma couldn’t shake the sigh, though it hopefully didn’t come off as too shitty. Didn’t need to offer any more reasons for tears.

Finally the teacher seemed to finish wrapping Mae’s paw, settling into a weathered recliner next to the sofa. 

“Little Borowski,” he started, and Selma could feel the oxygen cycling into her blood mix with pure relief at not being the only one on consoling duty. “Young Beatrice is in a bad way right now, it is true. And it is true she left you behind.” Selma didn’t see how telling Mae ‘yeah, your super morbid friend whose dad just offed himself drove her ass away from you’ was going to help, but she didn’t have any solid alternatives. At the very least the stream of tears and snot had left her fur as Mae turned her gaze to the man.

“There are times all is so bad,” he began, and Selma couldn’t see this going any direction but right off a cliff. “And everything that was bright seems gone. And vision becomes eclipsed and all you are seeing is empty corpses of what was.” Sure enough. “Never has this been true. Surrounding us is the cosmos, infinite light, life, meaning, all given form. Beh, of course there are the dead !! But around us? Always the living.”

Mae sniffled. She still leaned against Selma but her posture had shifted, her gaze meeting Mr. Chazokov’s. Selma couldn’t see her eyes but Mae’s body had stopped shaking, her ears perking up a bit. 

“You are living. Beatrice is living. Possum Springs even, still living. Hurting fiercely but living. So Miss Santello closed her eyes, yes ? And dreamed everything is dead. But it is not. This is not the end. You can open her eyes.”

Before Selma could ask how the fuck that was supposed to help Mae find her driveaway best friend, Mae was smearing her tears on her jersey undershirt, tail swishing behind her as she stood. What the- “Okay ! Okay, okay I’ve-” Mae took a deep breath and with the way her shoulders raised she looked sort’ve heroic. “I’ve got this .” Huh. 

Turning around, Mae leaned down and gave Selma a tight bearhug, squeezing with her small arms, injured hand floating at Selma’s back. “Thanks Selmers.” Before Selma could ask ‘For what?’ Mae was upright again. Giving Mr. Chazakov a mock, gauze covered salute, she darted out the door, her rapid footsteps peetering down the stairs.

“Beh heh heh heh,” laughed the english teacher, standing slowly and stiffly before looking toward Selma. “Truly you are a friend to be so good to her.”

Selma couldn’t help a satisfied smile as she recalled how brightly Mae shone. She hadn’t seen it but she could remember clearly the moment Mae’s eyes had opened. “Huh.”

\---

Fluorescents and darkness and voices and groans filled Beatrice’s skull. For a while there were people around and then she was in a tube and then she was searching for something but when she woke up she couldn’t remember what for. Her knees throbbed dully, not quite with pain, not quite without. More like the memory of.

 _Glass shattering_.

Moving didn’t seem altogether possible though breathing worked just fine. Like her body was filled with cement. Vaguely she could make out Garbo and Maloy’s faces on a flatscreen perched in the corner, though either her hearing was shot, or the volume was off, because their mouths were flapping mutely.

 _Steel folding_.

Wishing she could regard herself beneath the thin hospital sheet coating her body, Bea let her eyes drift back to close. Before she could descend back into the stars of slumber, the nagging pragmatist she’d molded her ego into tried to shove a grain of sand beneath her eyelid.

_‘The insurance probably isn’t gonna cover that, huh?’_

_‘Oh, shut up,’_ she bit back at herself, then slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter up, hopefully this one's a little kinder !  
> may stars grace your dreams, your heart remain innocent, and love permeate your every bean.  
> kiss my astra !


	3. The Hearse Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What good's a precious, beautiful stone when buried deep, below crushed bone ? Lives treated only as commodity, resource, we're regarded as mute despite our Roars.

_Weariness was nothing new. Weathered though her soul had grown, the Traveler’s will had become diamond. Now though, she was left in the dunes of everything. Starlight surrounded her being yet she was alone. Determining whether the light she could see emanated from something living or were mere images of an existence past was impossible. In fact it was just a distraction. A moment of failed appreciation for the space she’d become lost in._

_A comet crashed into her, its tail coating her body in blue fire, yet she lay resolute. Yet she lay. The only path she knew was a dead end, a farce. Some great cat that took some sick pleasure at taunting her smallness then leaving her no path away. A diamond will was all well and good until one wished to find a path. Now she was just a shiny rock in the sand, wishing._

__‘Adina…’ __

_Though the Traveler regarded the same vast expanse as had the woman for which she searched, fathoming the path Adina Astra might’ve taken was an impossible venture. Surely she hadn’t taken the same train as the Traveler. Even if she had, it was long gone. As ephemeral in its presence here as the gross greatness which had confronted her with her own ignorance. Her own meaninglessness._

_Sand swept over the Traveler’s body, beginning to bury her. How long had she been laying here ? This question was meaningless too. She would not stop existing until she found that for which she searched but with no clear forward direction to move she was as good as Nothing. Her gaze grew dark. Even the ghosts of dead stars disappeared to her. Coated so entirely, she was at least reassured that nothing would be able to see her as she began to cry._

__‘I want to hope again.’ __

_Grains of stardust poured off her body as a pair of hands lifted beneath her back. Suddenly she was being carried as a bride, held close to someone’s chest. A furry arm tickled at her neck. As her lids cleared of sand the Traveler dared opened her eyes and red corneas stared back toward her._

_“Knew I’d find you.”_

Laying in a hospital bed alone wasn’t exactly the most suitable activity for Bea at the moment but she’d put herself into the situation. The dangers of passively trying to kill oneself; considerations toward the very safety ratings that had made an extremely reasonable sedan appealing in the first place simply didn’t occur. Living impulsively wasn’t Bea’s style but apparently trying to die was. Maybe not even that. More a desire to flee. Escaping the horror town which had raised her would take a bit more thought but she ran too from thoughts of emptying her blood into a hot bath.

Not to anywhere comfortable. Not to a more practical means of flight nor the few beautiful comforts which life still offered. No, Bea’s mind jumped predictably to her father, and though an escape was appealing, she was trapped in this spiral.

_‘Leapt in front of a train...’_

Molly had spared details but Bea was imaginative enough to fill in the gaps. A train moved frame by frame into contact with the old croc’s body. He probably intended his head to go first; painless death was appealing but her dad’s thinking was lackadaisical even about the things he cared most about. Even about her. So the bumper had taken his legs first. Cracked them in half at the thigh then dragged him between the rails and the great locomotive after caving in his ribs. He’d likely flailed. Wanted to die but there’s no helping reactions to pain. Every time he’d moved something new had dislodged while a steel frame had bashed into his skull again and again. Dismembered as he was slowly bludgeoned to death. All that could have been left was blood-soaked entrails, organs, and muscle. Pulled apart but some still connected by cartilage, sinew, and tendon. Bone shards sticking out in odd ways. Gruesome but unrecognizable as a corpse by the time the train had passed. 

There was no turning her back to the sounds and images her own brain concocted. Bea couldn’t keep herself from putting it all together; ensnared within the discomfort of a gurney and her own brain.

By the time Bea was informed toward her condition it was sweet solace. Not because she was undamaged. Her left arm was broken, head concussed, legs bruised enough that crutches were a safe bet but a cane would suffice. Everything hurt but it was the action of muting the chattering visuals of her mind which delivered comfort.

Discharge processes were even cozier. Tedium was nothing new; Bea ate bureaucracy for breakfast chased with a cigarette. Paperwork for insurance and agreements to pay hospital and ambulance bills delayed her thoughts and a return to morbid ideations. Getting into the cab, offering destination, agreeing to have the charges added to her bills, all of this kept her from hearing herself screaming. Couldn’t last forever though. As soon as external expectation ceased and she was alone in the backseat of the cab heading back into Possum Springs the pain in her limbs was the least of her concerns. She was going home.

_‘Home with no father. Home with no mother. Home with just me. In Possum Springs. To decay slowly, to die there.’_

Though she choked down sobs, Bea was nearing tears. What was left ? Retch. Just a corpse town. Retch. A graveyard of dreams and parents. Retch. Nothing. There was Nothing.

“STOP !!!” Bea screamed, tongue hot with pooling saliva, her throat and stomach churning painfully as snot ran down her nostrils and tears poured down her scales. As the cab came to a halt she stumbled out and fell to her knees, dry heaving above the pavement as her cane clattered beside her. 

The pain of asphalt slamming against her bruised legs shook her. Bile kicked up and out but she hadn’t eaten at the hospital. Her throat stung, eyes burned, knees screamed; pain overwhelmed her senses. Why couldn’t she have just died, forgotten, left inside crumpled metal at the side of the highway ? Sure she was versed in the unfairness of the world but it didn’t keep her from hurting. Why couldn’t she stop hurting ?

As she looked up she realized the familiarity of Main St. She was already back in Possum Springs, above a dead cult, a dead family, a pit of horror lingering beneath. A great corpse stared back into her eyes. 

The Ol’ Pickaxe. Alongside her, the only body that’d yet to be buried, though she was sure a sinkhole would take care of that one’ve these days. She hadn’t even remembered to flip the greeting sign to Closed- Except that she had. Clearly remembered. Intended it to be the last time she closed up shop. Wanted to abandon it, leave it as a public headstone for the Santello family. 

She’d closed up but the word Open stared her in the face and looking inward there were customers. And people behind the counter. 

_‘Who…?’_

Standing, Bea walked away from the yellow cab. Her bills would find their way home. Always managed to. As Bea pushed open the door and the bell tolled for her, red eyes stared from across the counter.

_‘Maeday…’_

“BEA !!!”

\--- 

“Can I see you a minute in the office, Stan ?”

Stan had heard this question before when he’d begun pushing other employees to fight for their livelihoods. The resulting conversation had been laced with threats. In his periphery, from every angle, knives were pointed his way. He’d refused to lean back into them. Must’ve missed one though, otherwise he wouldn’t be getting called in.

This time Stan couldn’t help but to sigh, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet as he stood stiffly and marched to a funeral dirge into the general manager’s office. Neither his boss nor the man beside him were sitting behind the steel-and-glass desk inside.

Stan’s manager cleared his throat. The man beside him echoed the noise. Stan was pretty tempted to repeat the action but there was no sense in repeating a shitty punchline.

“Mr. Borowski, correct ?” Stan stood in silent response to the stranger, not gracing a stupid question with an obvious answer. “I’m the area manager for Ham Panther in the surrounding region and, well, there’s no easy way to say this, but… I’m here to request your resignation. Otherwise we’ll have to terminate your employment.”

“Well,” Stan started. Internally he raged, shouted, demanded answers. Roared until his hoarse voice was a rasp whimper. Then he mustered another shout, adjusting his glasses as he looked the man in the eyes. 

“That’s a whoppah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love fearlessly  
> don't forget yet try to forgive  
> may the planets align to celebrate your life and the stars blow kisses from the heavens !


	4. Janitor of Lunacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No shortage of love, some atmosphere of fun, sure would be shameful if you ruined it, hon. Just couldn't help your sad self I guess, we know you're incredible so why do you think less ?

_“Who are you ?”_

_“Hah ? They call me-uhhh-they call me the Reckoning ?”_

_“Okay, I’m extremely certain that’s a fabrication.”_

_“Really !! It’s because I like, wreck stuff.”_

_“That’s- You know what reckoning means, right ?”_

_“Yeah ? it means you wreck shit. I just said that.”_

_“... Uh-huh.”_

_“Uuugh, okay okay okay, nobody calls me the Reckoning.”_

_“Shocker. Who are you, then ?”_

_The Traveler was stricken by a sense of familiarity as the cat carrying her looked downward with her red eyes. Placing the sense was beyond her though, just as moving was presently beyond her. She’d insisted she be set down earlier, but the moment she’d been put onto her feet she’d fallen to her back and sand had begun to settle atop her again._

_“You said my name like, right before I found you. Dunno know how you forgot so fast.”_

_“You’re not Adina Astra.”_

_“Duh ? I don’t even have a lantern, or a telescope, or whatever else.”_

_“So-”_

_“Hope. Damn that sounds so lame, but yeah, I’m Hope. Look, you asked after me after talking to that great big hairball, and I came as fast as I could, right ? But I can’t carry you the whole way. Like, I would if I could, because I love you and shit, but that’s not really the way things work here. At some point you’ve gotta travel on your own two. But I can stick with you.”_

_“I c-”_

_“I’m not saying right now !! Nothing’s familiar anymore and you got dead-ended and everything sucks, I totally get it. No judgement here. Just saying at some point, okay ?”_

_“Okay.”_

_The Traveler stopped fixating on pinpointing what was familiar about the woman-Hope, apparently-and nestled her face close. Her eyes closed without layers of melancholic sand coating them. Where was she being taken ? When would she be able to stand on her own again ? And why was her rescuer so intent on helping in the first place ? What did she have to gain out of all of this ?_

_Sighing these questions away, the Traveler clung close and relaxed in Hope's arms. Inside herself, she found assurance that Hope had truly come for the Traveler to cling to. She was on her way to finding Adina again, and she was cared for. As she processed all that was said and looked calmly inward, she found a name for the familiar feeling she’d been unable to shake since being embraced and first meeting Hope's ruby eyes._

_“I think I love you too.”_

“HHH-Mae, IIIII-I-I-I uhm I think this is uh-uh-uhm I think this is maybe- maybe not a good idea ?” Lori looked over at Germ. She didn’t know him in the least but maybe he was someone with the sense to tell Mae that breaking into a storefront in broad daylight was going to get all of them arrested. Lori couldn’t do jail, she was just sixteen ! No no no no no !! Mae needed her !!! And she’d do okay in prison, probably ?? Stab at the abdomen for a big target, bite into necks after crouches, she could be a monster if she needed to be. She’d get sent to solitary for sure but nobody would hurt her she knew how to hurt even if she’d never hurt anyone but if it meant not getting killed she could hurt bad she could have fangs she could-

“You’re going to bust that pick,” Germ offered a moment too late, a snap of breaking metal inside the lock’s tumbler ringing. So loud, so so loud. Lori looked around frantically and nobody seemed to be looking back. Maybe not as loud as she thought. She was probably just panicking. This felt a whole lot like panic, but she couldn’t stop, why couldn’t she just be here for her friend, she’d volunteered ! “Also, aren’t you supposed to be at work ?” Ohno-ohno-ohno-ohno-ohno ! Mae was going to get fired and she’d come to help her get fired and also arrested !!

“Are you. Effing. Kidding me. Uuuuuugh.” Mae stared down at the metal in her hands then at the lock. How had Gregg and Casey made this look so easy ? She’d always rushed Gregg into moving faster but damn. It was just pushing up pins and twisting, so how come everything she tried at was, like, destined for failure. She should never have kids. They’d probably grow up to be awful bullies who didn’t know how to pick locks. Or something. “Wait, did you say something else ?”

“Yeah.”

“Was it some other way to get in ? A loose window? Something ?”

“Oh. Nah. Is there anyone at the Falcon right now ? Doing your job ?”

“Eff the Snalcon, Germ !! Eff it !!! We started doing pizza and it’s totally inedible, how can I be expected to work somewhere with bad pizza, how-how-” Mae’s hands fell to her side and the metal picks clattered on the sidewalk. “How come I can’t do this ? I just. Wanted to help. Bea drove off to wherever and hasn’t been responding on messenger, and Jackie’s probably telling her to move away from here forever or something, but I know Bea !! She can’t leave this place behind, but also she probably never wants to be inside of it again ?? And-and maybe if it’s like, all handled, she can take some time to-I don’t know, be sad ? For herself ? But I’m just ! Screwing !! Up !!!”

Mae's distress didn’t immediately snap Lori out of her own panic, but her friend’s rant gave her time at least to slow her breathing and focus her thoughts on something that wasn’t the inevitable jailtime she’d at least probably be serving with the cat in front of her. She didn’t really have very many words for reassuring people. The planet was pretty much garbage and convincing anyone otherwise was basically just lying. But-what if she didn’t ? Bother talking ? Lori’s arms reached out and hugged the only person above the age of 13 who was actually around her height and hugged tight. “If-if this isn’t okay just let me know okay I-I don’t really know what to do and everything seems pretty uhm-pretty fucked up b-”

“Oh my god ?? Lori, you can’t just say that, I mean like, cool on you I guess and I don’t mind the hug at all but-”

“Got it.”

Mae and Lori’s eyes snapped to watch as the door to the Ol’ Pickaxe swung open, its bell chiming in their ears. A key was in the lock. Then they looked, again as a pair, at Germ, who was pushing a pair of tweezers back into place in a multi tool.

“Got a copy so I can unload supply pallets. Distributor got new management, been delivering early mornings. Bea was missing breakfast and dinner. Thirty bucks, untaxed to unload some boxes.”

“Uh.”

“You said you wanted to break in. Was gonna let you. Was a thing, right ? With you and Gregg ? Crimes.”

“Crimes ?? It didn’t have to be crimes, holy shit ! Germ, you stack of dynamite, you well-busting, door-opening wonderbird come get in on this.”

As Mae reached out to pull Germ into what was about to become a group hug, he jumped over her incoming arm, grabbed ahold of the Pickaxe’s doorframe, and swung in. As he neared the ground he twisted 180 degrees, dropped a knee, and unleashed a dab so inspiring Mae couldn’t be even remotely concerned he didn’t want a hug. Saint Rubello breathing fire suddenly seemed pretty realistic because she’d just been witness to a miracle. Germ stood and brushed sawdust off his knee and her reverie was gone. There was a business to tend to.

Lori’s arms fell away from holding Mae. They were going to get arrested for no reason !! Mae had been crushed with the prospective of failing her friend and Germ could’ve opened the door The Whole Time. “You-you-you dunderfuck !” she yelled as she ran inside and punched Germ on the arm before huffing and folding her arms, glaring around the shop. Germ smiled in response to the insult and assault.

“Lor-”

“Just let the kid say fuck.”

“My name’s Lori and you can’t call me kid you’re not an adult ???”

“I’m twenty.”

“Adults don’t dab !!”

“Did it. Just a minute ago. And I’m an adult.”

Mae echoed Lori’s groan as she walked in, flipping the sign at the door to Open behind her. “Okay okay okay. Know what ? Eff you both, I love you guys.”

\---

Stan fidgeted, thumbs rubbing together. He didn’t often fidget. That was an understatement even.

Stan had fidgeted once before in his life, in the Possum Springs P.D. holding cell. He was still sobering up. Pacing around the room, he’d moved his digits anxiously in about every way a man could. Even resorted to popping his knuckles. He couldn’t look out the window of the cell. 

Outside, Molly was holding four-year-old Mae, who hadn’t stopped crying since the crash. Luckily, Candy had insisted on a very well-tested baby seat. Luckily, he’d been so drunk that his body had been slack and he’d avoided any injury. 

Candy was in the E.R.

Last he’d seen, she was bleeding from the head. Even so, she’d picked her ass out of her seat, then gotten Mae out of hers. He hadn’t been together enough to even unbuckle himself and follow after. Didn’t deserve to be at her side anyway.

In the cell, he’d tapped his foot, bitten his lip, tried to find anything that wasn’t his sister-in-law’s gaze to stare at. 

Now, from across the dinner table, he twiddled his thumbs and looked into Candy’s eyes. Things were bad, but they’d been far worse. This was manageable. There was no blood blackening his wife’s head, no spite in her eyes. Exhaustion, the understanding of a woman staring down a hurricane, and beneath that only love, support, and a strength he knew he could never match.

“Fired at the Panther. Apparently too slow taking orders on cuts.”

“Honey-”

“Guess some folks complained and it was- Well, they’ve been looking for an excuse to can me. Guess I gave it to them.”

“Stan-”

“I’m sorry, Candy. I’m so sorry.” Stan’s’ hands clenched into fists and he could feel his claws digging into his palms. Tears welled at his eyes and he let out an ugly sniffle before breaking to tears. It was like this anytime he apologized to her. It couldn’t just be for whatever way he’d found to make their current problems worse. Instead he always apologized for everything; for being so undeserving of her love and for almost killing her. Through his tears he couldn’t see if she was bleeding or not, but he could see her standing up. To get out of the car. To go out the front door of the house. To finally leave him. She should’ve gone sooner. She’d be better off.

Candy grasped at Stan’s fists, which immediately unclenched. Lips touched his brow, which unfurrowed. Cushioned herself atop his lap and pulled his face into her shoulder, which he sobbed into. “Well, hon’, we won’t be able to keep the house. Barely made it through the year and it’s probably better we save what we can before the bank takes it anyway.” He hiccuped a half-cry and began trying to apologize again, but she only pulled his face tighter against her. “I’ll worry about telling Mae, okay ? And start searching for apartments tomorrow.” Again, he tried to form words. Though only sputters fell from his lips, this time Candy let him hold his head up before settling her forehead against his and kissing the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, and I still love you, and I always will, alright ? We’ll be okay, honey. We tried our hardest.”

Stan couldn’t disagree with her. Couldn’t scold her for not demanding more of him. All he could do was be grateful that she graced him with her merciful, unconditional adoration. Sometimes he wondered if she’d been hiding a halo from him.

“Love you too, angel.”

\---

“BEA!!!” 

Hopping atop the counter, then down in front of it, Mae left two customers in the middle of checkout in her wake. How could she be so excitable while tending to… Bea couldn’t help a shudder. This place should be closed. Should be dead. She should be dead. A fresh wave of nausea screamed against her throat but she gulped it down. Forced herself to focus on Mae, who was glancing her over. Staring at her cane, then out the window at the taxi making a u-turn on Main. 

Mae’s eyes narrowed and her ears folded downward. Rather quickly, concern over the Pickaxe disappeared from Bea’s mind. She hadn’t even considered what she was going to tell Mae, hadn’t… She hadn’t even thought about her. Not once since she’d shaken her from the top of her car. How could she-what kind of- Bea’s free hand grasped at her own stomach as she returned the lookover. Mae looked okay except-except her right hand was thick with bruising. Missing fur exposed scabs on her knuckles. Shit. What had she done ? Blanching, Bea leaned into her cane for support.

“What…”

Oh god. She couldn’t meet Mae’s eyes. Refused to see the hurt there. She was going to leave Mae here. Alone. To deal with the Pickaxe. To deal with her being Gone. Selfish. Bea was selfish. 

“What happened ??”

“...”

“Uh…?”

“ None of your business.”

“Beabea ?"

“Shut up, Mae. Just said it’s none of your business. Neither is the Pickaxe. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I-”

“Just. Fuck off.”

Bea turned around and hobbled out the door. Didn’t look back. There was no sedan to drive off in, but this time Mae didn’t follow her. Good. Disgust coated every inch of Bea’s throat and wrenched her stomach into a pit of acid. Her only relief came from the decision that she’d never hurt Maeday-No.

No, Bea didn’t deserve to think that name anymore. It was a nickname borne of love. A promise of consideration and kindness. Bea wasn’t capable of either. She was a lost cause. Rotten waste. A cruel, decomposing corpse who’d abandoned the only person left in this awful, hick town who mattered. Who cared. As she traipsed toward her apartment, Bea decided she’d never hurt Mae again.  
_  
‘Never again.’_

_‘Never again.’_

_‘Never again.’_

Bea couldn’t help her tears until she found herself wishing her face was buried in the furry neck of a woman who’d tried to give her everything. Who Bea had dumped off the top of the car onto unforgiving asphalt. Her tears quickly vanished. She didn’t deserve to hurt, much less be consoled. 

Shutting the door behind her, Bea made herself comfortable in a nicely worn divot in her brown, leather couch. Flicking on the tv, she channel surfed until the remote fell out of her good hand and she snored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> s o o o next chapter will be up on the solstice  
> little over a month from now  
> hope you get to spend the coming week with treasured loved ones and your favorite foods but also ?  
> if you're feasting in front of presho pets, try and get them a treat or two so they can join in on the merriment !
> 
> may the might of awe at all that is existence keep the stars in your eyes from ever collapsing  
> see y'all for the longest night of the year !!

**Author's Note:**

> hope my intro teased ur emotion sacs, never posted fic before n only panicking A Lot  
> might stars twinkle upon u n the universe regard u fondly


End file.
